


and time is its only measure

by twigcollins



Series: moments in another time [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-23
Updated: 2010-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:42:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twigcollins/pseuds/twigcollins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rampantly AU.  Pre-game.  A trip to Eruyt Village.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and time is its only measure

**Author's Note:**

> "We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we know the word for it. Before we know that there are words. Out we come, bloodied and squalling, with the knowledge that for all the points of the compass, there's only one direction. And time is its only measure."

It takes precious time he doesn't have, to find a viera willing to talk, let alone one that will guide him to the edge of Eryut. It helps considerably, when Cid tells her to name her price.

An airship and a small fortune later, and they are at the edge of a place that humes do not travel to. The viera doesn't linger, perhaps there is a single, backwards glance, before she leaves them without another word. Viera may be the best of all possible mercenaries, completely disinterested in nearly all the affairs of courts and kings, considering most double-dealing to be beneath them, and so he and Vayne are here with no one likely to be the wiser.

It is a long shot, the longest of long shots, and Cid does not know what he will do after this has failed, thinks it might involve an aggressive amount of alcohol and some incredibly bad short-term decisions. He has access to far more highly explosive materials than is healthy for a single person.

At least it doesn't take long for their arrival to draw attention. Two viera appear at the far end of the long path, one with a bow held loosely, and though they are different enough in appearance, the similarities in coloring create an eerie unity among them. Enough like a hume, save for the ears, yet no one would ever think their two races were at all the same. Cid wonders where the men are, or if he could even tell them apart if he saw them.

"This is not a place for humes. You must leave."

Cid can tell a good deal of attention is over his shoulder, to where Vayne stands, looking vaguely ill to any hume who might be looking, and likely far worse to their keen senses.

"We were told there was… is a wise woman of your people. Her name is Selias, and that we might find her among you."

"If there were, there is no reason she would see you. We do not meet with your kind."

He's been holding a large bundle all this time, unwraps it quietly. It is a recurve bow of particularly exquisite design, taken from one Archadian vault or another, ancient and fine, with delicate carvings along its length, the record of a battle fought before Cid's grandfather's grandfather was a boy.

"I would make a gift to you, for the courtesy. I was told that this was once a viera weapon, taken in a battle long ago. I imagine it is quite priceless."

The unarmed viera steps forward, takes it from his hand, running an appreciative hand across its surface, looking at him closely, questioning. As if Cid has any room left in his thoughts for ulterior motives. The other viera's expression does not change.

"You have returned what never was yours to take. We should help you for this?"

The little there is left of Cid's temper snaps as if it never was.

"I have another offer then, one you may find more convincing." He lifts the vial from his pocket, holds it up, faceted edges glinting in the light. "An odd chemical combination I came across one day. I haven't quite given it a name, yet. Quite interesting, though. You see, if you spill it on anything alive - humes, animals, plants - it burns, and it doesn't stop burning. Completely resistant to water, and most everything else. Marvelous stuff. I've been looking for a place to test it, somewhere… a bit spacious. Just to see what might happen."

At least he has their attention fully now, the one with the bow nocking an arrow to it, claws flexed and stance battle ready. No longer quite the pure and reserved creatures of the forest. Cid smiles - this at least, he knows how to deal with.

"Oh please, do you think I came here to deliver empty threats?" He glances casually skyward. "A decent-sized airship will carry, perhaps, sixteen-thousand gallons, when fitted properly. I doubt it would be enough to kill your Wood, not in one go. Especially since it's so difficult to aim. But I do think it might ruin your day, regardless. So I ask you again, gentle hosts of the forest, may we please speak with Selias?"

He has absolutely nothing to lose, and holds the fierce gaze without hesitation or even concern. After a moment the two viera exchange a meaningful glance, one of them walking quickly away while the other nods, ever so slightly. She would be exquisitely beautiful, if it wasn't obviously taking most of her concentration not to tear his throat out.

"You will follow me."

The viera puts a bit of distance between them right from the start, which is fine. Cid hovers at Vayne's elbow, not quite touching.

"What was it, really?" Vayne murmurs.

"Red potion in a green vial." Cid mutters back, dropping the useless bottle back in his pocket. The soft snort of amusement, weak as it is, is a very welcome sound.

"You're a better liar than I thought you'd be."

"I've had a long time to study."

=============================

They are led around the edge of what Cid assumes is the center of the village. It is breathtaking, a haven in the trees, nothing of its kind to be found elsewhere in Ivalice. The viera they see are all beautiful and serene and practically naked, obviously above all the petty grievances of the world, and Cid has never loathed anyone quite so profoundly in his entire life. Or perhaps he is simply jealous. A few of them obviously stare back with haughty disgust, but Cid is quite used to feeling like the shambling troll amidst the beautiful people. It's like an Archadian dinner party with more fur.

"Look. Look at that."

Vayne is pointing to a decorative, latticed curve, and Cid can see where the metal has been interspersed with the roots of trees, carefully grown in to replace the missing sections.

"It's manmade, isn't it? The floors. The metalwork. They didn't do all this."

Likely not. Cid cannot imagine these willowy creatures bothering to construct, say, the towering pillars at the edges of their platforms, and wishes he had the opportunity to see underneath, how it has all been put together. The ruins of yet another lost age of Ivalice, repurposed by the viera, though even in their original state it was clear these structures had been made to work with nature, intended to live with the trees. He is staring at the span of a bridge, a twin to the one they now stand on, and trying for a glance underneath it when he hears a short, choked sound behind him. Turns just in time for Vayne's hand to close around his upper arm, fingers clenching hard as he wavers on his feet.

"Damn it." Cid hisses, listening to Vayne draw a shaking breath. "You need to rest."

"It… I am fine. It passes, even now."

A few of the Viera are quietly watching with dark and curious eyes, and Cid tries very hard to keep from glaring back. It is not their fault, that they have been born here, pure and perfect, allowed to live in virtuous innocence forever as long as they do not stray. He has done more than enough to earn their censure, even if they do not know the particulars, nearly every detail of his existence a fine example of what is wrong with humes.

The viera leads them to a small room, and it is not long after that her companion returns, and at her side is the first viera Cid has seen who does not quite resemble the others. Still beautiful, still lithe and graceful - but she is old, Cid can tell, and if he can see it that means, for all he knows, it might be her bow they have brought back with them, or at least a very close relation. Her eyes are milky, opalescent, but she walks with sure and certain movements, and could probably still take his head off from across the room if she wanted to. She waits for the younger viera to leave before addressing them.

"I am Selias. You wished to see me. Why?"

Her tone is not encouraging, but Cid has no choice.

"We have journeyed here, to seek your aid. We were… informed by one of the viera who has journeyed beyond your borders, that you knew of secrets long forgotten. Healing arts, that no other is aware of."

Selias doesn't respond. With every moment that passes, it feels more and more like a Draklor budgetary inquiry.

"My name is Doctor Cidolfus Bunansa, and this is Vayne Solidor, heir to the Archadian Empire."

Still nothing, and Vayne doesn't bother trying to explain further, just takes off his coat and unbuttons the shirt beneath, fabric sliding away to reveal the mottled flesh of his right shoulder - blue and black, the colors of thin ice over dark water, dark tendrils threading out along his veins, a slow and tangled weed meant to strangle him in the end. It looks almost worse healed than it did when he was bleeding out in Nabudis, and Cid feels gutted all over again. The revulsion on Selias' face is clear, blind eyes no barrier to the weight of this sacrilege, and Cid can see her nostrils flare, lip curling in disgust as one hand finds purchase against the wall, claws digging in hard.

"You are a fool of a hume and it is right that you should die from this."

Vayne laughs. Cid has always known how little the man thinks of his own safety, not quite enough to be called reckless but always, always tempting fate, as if it is some secret game between himself and the world, daring it to do the worst. As if knowing it would all come to this in the end, and that laugh hurts to hear.

"How long do I have?"

Selias snorts derisively. "I know not how you have lasted this far. Get out, I will not have you die within the Wood."

Vayne is unmoved. Wounded and on unfamiliar ground, and yet he is as calm as if he is petitioning the Senate for what he knows they must give him.

"I have a brother. If our Empire is to be saved from itself, he must live to take the throne. He is young - yet too young to survive such dangers unprotected. I must live long enough to see him safely crowned."

"What do we care for the business of humes?" It obviously disgusts her to even have to say the word. "It matters naught to us if a thousand emperors die in your streets."

"It will be war. The men who will kill him, who will use the fall of my House to see their own glory, they will call for battle and rally the people and it will be war unending. The machines of the Archadian Empire will sweep across the land, and if you think you can remain in isolation simply because you do not /care/ for what they do, you will wake up one morning to find them at your very door. You will remember this moment, when there was still another way."

The viera laughs back, matching Vayne in such a way that Cid wonders how far back and on who's tree the family lines crossed. "I have lived a very long time, hume. You are hardly the first to be so arrogant, to consider your life the virtue on which the world spins. We are not so wholly unaware of the world outside the Wood as you think, and life there does not change as much as you are desperate to believe. You humes come, you make noise, declare yourselves to be whatever you believe suits you best, and you go and are forgotten. This is the way it has always been - in your histories as well as ours. In the end, you are all but words writ in the very air."

"What if you're wrong?"

"I suppose that you will die, and we will see."

Cid steps forward, about to be very loud and angry in a way that will help absolutely no one when the viera suddenly pauses, turning toward the door. Tilts her head, listening closely to what is obviously more for her than the wind rustling through the leaves. Sightless eyes narrow - strangely, Cid is sure he recognizes the expression on her face. Irritation and disbelief, when the results of an experiment aren't the ones he expected for no reason he can comprehend. When he's got a deadline and his reputation in the balance, and a perfectly valid natural law suddenly decides to become inconvenient.

"Stay here."

And with that, she is gone.

———————————————————————

After a few moments, when it is clear that Selias has no intention of returning soon, it takes little to convince Vayne to take the low pallet near the window by the far wall. Cid allows a moment of purely childish pleasure, imagining her annoyance at having humes touching all of her things, but then Vayne is wincing just with the effort of sitting down, cradling his right arm carefully against his chest as Cid helps him to lie back. A stack of blankets rests in one corner of the room - he wonders if this is some sort of infirmary, imagines that fur would provide enough insulation most nights for the able-bodied, but he is thankful whatever the reason, the cloth soft and warm.

He does not know how Vayne has managed the last two weeks to hide the truth, allowing Cid alone to patch him up, subjecting himself without complaint to treatment after treatment that did nothing at all, until this truly last, desperate attempt. He has claimed everything from a poor meal to a slight cold, brushing off concern with the same easy disinterest - and if he is not worried, why should anyone else be? Cid is the only one still privy to the truth, to the way Vayne's eyes go dark and his breathing hitches as he finally relaxes, letting the facade that everything is as it should be fall away.

Cid sighs. "I think, on reflection, that Venat may have intended to kill us both."

Who was to say it had not allied with the rest of its kind, at the last? That this had not been some great game from the start? Bring Nethicite back into the world with some great tale of woe, then kill the only two who knew the whole story, and watch the world fall apart. His family is among the oldest names in Archades, Cid ought to know better than to trust any story at face value, even the ones that only he can hear.

"Well," Vayne murmurs, "at least it got us out of the city."

So much is between them, unspoken, and Cid does not know what to say or how to say it. The question of when and how Larsa must be told is not an argument he has felt strong enough to make yet, still hoping past hope that a miracle might occur. Still sure he will find it, if only he keeps looking.

He will never, ever be strong enough to admit otherwise.

"I… Vayne, I…"

"Had it all finished there, in Nabudis, it would not have been your fault. I have long made peace with the idea that my end would not likely be of my own choosing." Vayne looks up at the ceiling for a moment, and Cid has to glance away. Damn him for being so calm, for thinking this is all right, that it does not matter if he dies as long as he ties up all the loose ends on his way out. "We will simply have to come up with a new plan. You will need allies, if you are to stand against Ghis and Bergan - my father has turned to them far too often as of late, they would be blind not to see the opportunity in it. Drace…"

"Drace is a useless fool, easily swayed, and she sits in the pocket of the Senate." Cid is not feeling particularly generous at the moment, and the fact that the Judge can't say his name without sounding as if it's something she scraped from her boot heel doesn't help.

"Drace is noble, stubborn and principled, whatever she may think of me. She loves my brother dearly, she is loyal to him, and that is what matters. That is /all/ that matters. Gabranth as well - they fear him, as they should. I imagine he could take both of them, were the circumstances correctly aligned. I have never been quite certain of /why/, but he is loyal to my father, to House Solidor's right to rule. It would be a powerful alliance there, to keep my brother safe."

//… and what in hell am /I/ supposed to do?!// Cid wants to whine, like a selfish child, as if he is somehow the one condemned to a terrible fate. Yet it will be terrible, will it not? He no longer even has his madness for company.

"You might play my father off the Senate - that's always good fun on a dull day." Vayne's voice sounds hollow, perhaps the slightest bit slurred - this journey, the confrontation with the Viera, it has taken more out of him than he will admit to. "Don't let him… he is growing dangerous in his old age. Unpredictable, he has forgotten what his best interests are or how to reach them. It is not easy, to anticipate his next move, to know what fool's errand he will see as clever design. He will try… he wants to hurt me now, whatever the cost. He will poison Larsa against my memory."

"I will never let that happen." Cid reaches out, surprised at how hard Vayne's hand clutches against his own. It isn't just pain, his gaze turned away for a reason - and he is a damned fool for thinking Vayne so indifferent to his own death, whatever pretty words he might attempt to hide behind. "There is no way your brother would accept that. You know this."

"I have two people who'd like to argue with you, but I killed them." Vayne inhales, sharply, grip tightening so hard Cid can feel the bones in his hand shift. "I… don't let him do it. If there is any way… tell Larsa why I did what I did. Explain it in the whole. Tell him it wasn't a lie, that I loved him. That, at the least, was never a lie."

The Curaga does very little, drained away almost instantly - anything Cid /can/ do seems to do little, every possible remedy in every combination. At least it is quiet here, and the sun is warm through the open window, the shadows of leaves playing across the floor. A strange timelessness, sitting in silence, without any of his work, without papers or books but Cid doesn't mind, can't bring himself to concentrate anyway. It is enough to sit here, Vayne's hand in his own, grip loosening as he finally slips into an uneasy sleep, and Cid dare not move for fear of waking him again. He looks so pale, and utterly exhausted, and the hand clutching his is so terribly cold.

It truly cannot be much longer now.

One son in exile, content to loathe him forever, and this - his young prince, that all vows of loyalty and honor and the Bunansa name demand he lay down his life to protect, and look what has come of it. It should have been his price to pay. The Occuria should not have been so foolish - Vayne was the bystander, Cid is the one who stood at their door, with neither the brains nor the humility to back away. His arrogance, his foolish curiosity, and now the penalty, not even his to bear.

The bleak thoughts are more than enough to keep him occupied. So lost in thought and the certainty of what will happen next - that he has been through it before, the grave, the lab, and this time alone forever - that when a shadow falls across the floor, Cid looks up in startled confusion, having forgotten all about Selias or her outrage or her sudden departure. It is enough to rouse Vayne, and he and the viera regard each other for a long moment, in silence.

"The Wood has use of you, hume. I cannot imagine why, yet it is so."

A sigh of what is probably disgust, and Cid stands up as she moves forward, backing out of her way. Two more viera enter the room, perhaps the ones that met them at the entrance, one with a bowl of hot water, steam rising from the surface, and another with a low table, which they place beside the pallet.

"What are you doing?" Cid asks, aware of the stupid note of panic in his voice, so far out of his element it's almost funny, and the look he is given says as much. The Viera exchange a few soft words with Selias and are gone again, and she is carefully unwrapping what at first appears to be a long bundle of twigs. It is only as he gets a better look that he sees it is some sort of stone, uneven at both ends and flaking small bits of sparkling dust, opaque and honeyed in the light. The viera sits lightly on the chair Cid had been using, and scrapes her claws across the surface, turning the water gold, before dragging a small cup through it.

"Drink."

"Wait. What are you-" But Vayne holds up a hand to quiet him, and it's true - they did come here for help with neither of them expecting to get half so far. Cid can see he is still cautious on the first sip, obviously trying to place the taste, yet quickly drains the rest of it at a gesture from the viera. Moments later he falls slack against the pillows, Selias taking the cup from his hand even as she pulls his shirt fully away.

"Damn it, wait-"

"He is in no danger, hume. Far better that he sleep through this."

Cid watches her pick at the stone - lined with channels, more like a piece of wood, and splintered fragments come apart under her hands, long, thin segments like needles of light. With the ease of long practice, she slides them into Vayne's shoulder, a trail down the whole side of his chest marking the worst of the damage. Cid sees them change, slowly fading from gold to blue and then black, the darkness drawn up into them, and the viera plucks them free, setting new needles in their place.

"It's not crystal is it?" Something different, about the way it catches the light. Cid frowns. "Resin?"

"It is a most precious gift, from the heart of the oldest tree in the Wood. I would not give such aid to humes, yet the Green Word bids it so." Her ear flicks - almost funny, she is greatly annoyed with him, with Vayne, with being forced to give them such assistance.

Cid glances out into the green-latticed sky.

"Can you tell it… her… that I am very grateful? More grateful than I can say."

The viera doesn't answer, not for a long time, and finally is pulling the last of the needles free, soaking and wringing out the cloth she'd wrapped the resin in, wiping what little blood there is away, laying it against Vayne's shoulder once more. He looks far improved already, no longer so pale, and though the places he was hit worst are still dark and ugly-looking, they are far more scattered, the marks less apparent, no blackened offshoots reaching out to choke off his life. When Cid reaches for his hand, it is warm to the touch.

"It is time only, not a cure, and I cannot say how much he has been given." The rest of the resin placed in his hand, when Cid had started to wonder just how much begging he might have to do. "It will not save him. Nothing can save him, but it may yet give him this time he believes he needs."

The relief hits him so hard it hurts. Thank the gods she already thinks so little of him, that he can fumble over the gratitude she does not want anyway.

"We will never… I swear to you, I will never forget this."

"Of course you will." It is not even said all that unkindly, something akin to pity in her unseeing gaze. "You humes, you destroy all that you touch, in search of some goal you cannot name, some place you cannot reach. All we can do is stay out of your way, and hope your time here will be as brief as you seem likely to make it."

How is Cid to argue, when he has thought much the same himself? He is old enough, yet she makes him feel like an idiot child, barely able to justify why he bothers breathing.

"I wish it was as easy, as you think it to be. If I could stop, just walk away, and make that the end of it… but it won't work. I've done too much already not to see this through. I may be damned, as you say, but if I do nothing it will end in disaster all the same." Cid looks down at Vayne Solidor, imperfect and flawed, with blood on his hands, and easily worth a dozen of those who would risk nothing, who claimed innocence through inaction and watched the world burn. "We are not all, I think, as utterly wretched as you would like to believe."

Selias says nothing, but rises. "You will rest here for the night, and leave in the morning, and never return."

Cid frowns, already wondering if they have overstayed their hospitality. "Perhaps it would be better…"

The viera shakes her head. "I do not argue with the Green Word, hume. You would do well do to do the same."

And then she is gone.

Cid soaks the cloth once more, taking a closer look at what has healed, to reassure himself it is not some fantasy, a desperate need to believe. Checks the steady beat of Vayne's pulse, far better than it was before their arrival. He looks down at what remains of Selias' gift, the gift of the Wood, wishing like hell he had a microscope on him right here and now. The Viera are right, humes do put an absurd amount of time and work into pure self-destruction, but they're also amazingly clever when it comes to saving themselves from their own stupidity. He can fix this. He is almost as good at fixing things as he is at breaking them.

Cid glances back at the chair, but it's just going to leave him with an ache in his neck to try and rest in it. Far easier to sit down on the floor and lean against the low bed, head pillowed on his arms and watching Vayne rest comfortably. The leaves rustle, and Cid glances up toward the open window. He wonders what this Wood of theirs knows of gratitude, of fealty and sacrifice and desperation born of love.

"Thank you."

He can't help but smile at his own foolishness. First talking to gods, and now he's speaking to the trees. It will be the chocobos next, no doubt.


End file.
